


The Night Circus

by GypsySisters



Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Circus, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Circus, Comfort, Comfort/Angst, Did I mention sex?, Dream Sequence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fade Dreams, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Magical Tattoos, Rough Sex, Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Sexy Times, Tattoos, The Hanged Man - Freeform, dream - Freeform, sexy sex sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-06-01 23:49:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6541804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GypsySisters/pseuds/GypsySisters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tallia Lavellan is a real mage in the modern world who wants to join a circus to hide her powers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Last Train To Kirkwall

Of course it rained. She’d caught the last train to Kirkwall and stepped out into the deluge, clutching her belongings and cursing the ancestors-forsaken sky.

There were no taxis. Shit. She hadn’t thought to pack her umbrella. So now she was getting poured on at a bus stop, hovelling under the ineffective awning. Knit cardigan like a soggy yarn dishtowel. Rilo Kiley Tshirt dripping wet and plastered against her skin. Jeans soaking water from the cuffs straight up to her knees. Brilliant.

While she had the power to activate a barrier spell and walk untouched through the storm, dread wolf take her, she had to keep a low profile.

Tallia Lavellan was a mage, and the first rule of mage survival was: don’t let anyone know you can do magic.

This isn’t some fantasy, afterall. This is the Real World, where mages were killed off ages ago. If you screw up, there is no ministry of magic to help muggles forget. Tallia hadn’t even met anyone with abilities outside her family for over a decade. Mages simply didn’t exist anymore. Magic spelled danger. If you screwed up and got caught casting, you’d better have a good explanation, preferably a gadget or handy tech, to keep people unsuspecting. The only thing that stood between life and death was a thin line of disbelief. Thank the creators for skepticism.

  
“Excuse me.”

Tallia’s mind had been wandering. She snapped back to reality. In front of her stood a shem in a leather flight jacket, with the feathery collar turned up against the weather. The rain ran rivulettes from his blond curly hair down his temple and disappeared behind his ears. 

He gestured to the bus sign; on the back there was a timetable. “The buses have stopped running for the night.”

She scowled at the sign and sighed, defeated. But she’d made it. She was in Kirkwall. “Thanks,” she muttered.

The shem nodded. He looked her over once, opened his mouth as if to speak, then thought better of it and simply turned to leave. Hands in his pockets, he hunched forward, head down against the wind.

He had a nice ass.

 _Shit, Tallia. Focus. Ass not important._ But it was hard not to notice as he walked into the night. 

_Priorities._ She got out her smartphone and checked Yelp for best rated taverns and hotels.

 **The Hanged Man.** 4.25 stars. 388 reviews. 

5 stars. Danarius.  
The atmosphere is to die for. Food’s ok.  
704 hearts  
Comments:  
This is not funny. I did not laugh. (Fenris)  
ROFL Isabella is this you?!?! (Hawke)

5 stars. Donnic H.  
Good microbrews on tap. Fish and chips are good.  
33 hearts

1 stars. Arishok.  
A vile cesspool of unwashed heathens. Repent. The end is here.  
236 hearts  
NOTE FROM OWNER: Knock it off, Isabella, I know this is you. But I can’t delete your comments. - V

5 stars. Daisy.  
This is the best place in town! I love the beer sampler. I mean: why only get one beer when you can try a whole platter of itty bitty beers?!?! The burgers are AMAZING and cooked TO ORDER. I always ask for rare. And the service is the best ever!!!  
113 hearts 

3 stars. P’Anders.  
If you don’t let me bring my cats I’m gonna level this place to the ground. Oh and the garlic fries are nice they make my breath good.  
482 likes  
Comments:  
Shut. UP. Isabella. (Anders)


	2. The Hanged Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: assault in this chapter

The Hanged Man was the beating heart at the center of Kirkwall’s dock district. Warm light poured out of the windows. It pulsed with energy, radiating vitality into its bleak surroundings. As guests came and went, the door opened like a rhythmic valve, the din of voices rising from within and falling each time it closed against the night.

Tallia stepped in from the storm and stood dripping on the threshold while she surveyed the place. Tattered banners from regions across Thedas hung against the walls like kitschy reminders of a heritage nobody had cared about in ages. 

It was packed. And loud. Uproarious laughter exploded from a nearby table and the din of chatter swelled all around her like rushing waves.

She made her way over to get a drink. With no free barstools, she leaned against the bar itself, ordered a gin and tonic and drank it while she eavesdropped on the nearest conversation.

“What else can you expect, with the night circus back in town.”

“Aye!”

“I'm surprised there aren't more tourists, what with the rush we had last time.”

“True. True. But the weather is spotty.”

“Spotty. But not awful.”

“Too awful to sleep on the street, for sure!”

“They say the Hanged Man’s letting guests sleep in the tavern floor after close.”

“The blighted floor?!”

“Aye. There's not a dry bed left in Kirkwall.”

“Well Maker take me. Varric’s a good man.”

“A good man.”

There was a clink of toasting, and the shems fell silent as they drank their ale. 

Not a dry bed in Kirkwall. _Damn._ Sleeping on the tavern floor it would have to be, then. But it's not like she had much money anyways. Perhaps this was for the best.

Desperate to get into dry clothes, she looked around for a bathroom sign. Across the crowded room, she realized she was being watched. Blond curly hair. Bomber jacket. It was the shem from the bus stop. He was sitting alone in the corner booth. She blushed and bit her lip. When she started back, his hand shot up to rub his neck, and he looked away. 

“Dreadful weather out there, sweetheart.”

A man stepped into her line of sight, a different shem, this one tall and dark. He wore a woolen dust jacket over a black button up shirt, undone at the throat. As his gaze shifted down her wet clothes, it lingered over her torso, and he ogled how her wet tshirt clung to her chest. Her gut clench up.

He smiled at her through yellowed teeth. “Buy you a drink?”

“Sorry,” she made to walk around him. 

He blocked her. “Come on, sweetheart. We haven't even been introduced! Name’s Samson. Raleigh Samson. But _you_ can call me whatever you want.”

She forced a grin through clenched teeth. “Not interested,” she muttered, and turned away.

He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her ear to his mouth. He was rank with liquor, yet didn't slur a word. “What's the matter? Feeling down? I can give you a pick me up.” His hands groped around her waist. 

Tallia broke away in disgust. “Just leave me alone.” She swung her bag over her shoulder and beelined it for the women’s restroom.

“What an _asshole!_ ” She blurted out to the empty room as the door swung shut. She clung to the sides of the sink and stared at herself in the mirror, shaking. “Get it together, Tallia.” She ran the tap and started to splash some water on her face. 

The door to the bathroom opened and shut. The deadbolt clicked. She looked over, and there was Samson, striding towards her over the linoleum. Before she had a chance to react, he was upon her, pushing her up against the wall. “That wasn't very nice, now, was it, sweetheart? Someone needs to be taught some manners.”

“Please. You're drunk. You don't want to do this.”

He grabbed her throat, choking her just enough so that she couldn't speak. “I know exactly what I want, sweetheart.” He started fumbling with his belt with his free hand. 

She clawed at his grip, but she was no match for his strength. So she closed her eyes and focussed, allowing her spirit to tap into the fade as she placed her hands on his chest and summoned a bolt of electricity.

Lightning coursed through Raleigh Samson, blasting him away from her. He slid across the floor just as the door broke open. The shem from the bus stop had kicked it in and he came rushing into the room. 

“I...you…” he fumbled for words as he surveyed the scene, and walked, guardedly, towards Tallia. “Are you alright?”

Tallia touched her throat where Samson had been choking her. He was breathing but unconscious, his body twitching from the aftershocks of the spell. The smell of singed flesh lingered. “I had to shock him. I didn't want to use magic. But he wouldn't stop.”

The she realized she'd just confessed her deepest secret to a stranger. 

“You can't tell anyone. Please,” she begged. “It was self defense!”

The shem regarded her, then spoke up, “It was lucky you had a taser on you.”

“A taser?” What was he talking about? People were starting to gather around the entrance to the bathroom, where he busted in the door. 

He looked at her pointedly. “A _taser._ ”

Comprehension dawned on her. he was helping her with a over story. “Oh. Right.” She raised her voice a little, the easier to be overheard. “Yeah. I'm lucky I was able to taze the bastard.”

He stepped closer and said in a low voice. “How are you feeling?”

“I don't know. I guess I'm fine. I'll be fine.” She recalled how he'd kicked in the door when she was locked inside. He must have rushed to the bathroom the second Samson had pursued her. “Thank for your help.”

“Such as it was,” he chuckled. “It seems you didn't need saving after all.”

For an awkward moment they regarded each other. Tallia couldn't think of anything to say. 

Then he looked down at the unconscious man on the floor and growled. “I'll drop this lunatic in the gutter where he belongs.” He heaved Samson up on his shoulders and made his way out of the room before she thought to ask his name.


	3. Varric Can Keep a Secret

Varric was livid.

The dwarf rushed towards the bathroom as Samson was being drug out, and he was barraged by secondhand accounts along the way.

“...knocked unconscious…”

“...serves him right…”

“...low even for Samson…”

Once he reached Tallia, he looked her over, then gestured, “Come with me.”

She followed him in a daze until they reached the back room, which appeared to be his private quarters. The door was left open and she could hear the din and chatter of the bar not far off. 

The room was cozy. A fire danced in the fireplace. Books were strewn about. There was a vintage typewriter set up on a desk in the corner, with typed pages tacked to the wall, stacked in piles on the floor, and crumbled into the waste paper basket. An alcove lay behind a curtain; she presumed it was his sleeping quarters.

“That was officially fucked up.”

He pulled out a dusty bottle and two tumblers, poured her a drink and set it for her at the dining table centered in the room. Then he knocked back his head and downed his drink in one gulp, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and sidled into the chair at the head of the table.

A tall woman barged into the room, pisssd, “Tell me it isn't true.” Her dark hair was cropped close in a pixie cut and the vein in her neck was throbbing. 

The dwarf replied before Tallia had a chance, “It's true.”

She rushed over to Tallia, “Outrageous! Are you hurt? If I ever see him again, Maker help me, I will throttle that man!”

Tallia was warming up to these strangers and their outrage was helping her acknowledge just how much shock she was in. “He attacked me.” Saying the words made it feel more real. She took a deep breath and her shoulders relaxed a little. “He just grabbed me and…” Her thoughts trailed off. She sat down and sipped the liquor the dwarf set out for her. 

“I'm Varric. This is Cassandra.” He pulled down another tumbler while the woman paced into the corner, texting passionately on her phone. He poured himself another before sitting back down. “I know we get assholes in here, but what really irks me is I know his type. He'll complain about being misunderstood and not getting a fair chance, but then he takes it to this level and tries to make up for some lost sense of masculinity…” The dwarf rubbed his temples and shook his head, then looked at her, crestfallen. “I'm sorry. I'm just so pisssd this happened. To you. Here. In my tavern.”

The woman, Cassandra, had returned to the table to fill in the others on her conversation. “Aveline is busy with booking. She'll send Donnic to take a statement.” 

Tallia felt the hairs on her arms stand up. “Aveline? Who? What does this Donnic want from me?” Things were happening so swiftly. Tallia was struggling to catch her breath.

“Look, kitten. I know you're overwhelmed. But all you have to do is tell the truth. Make a statement to the detective…”

Tallia stood up, suddenly, on edge and wary of the idea of talking to the authorities. “No. No I can't do that…” What if they found holes in her story? Figured out she was a mage? No. She didn't want to risk calling attention to herself. “I don't want to press charges.”

“What?!” Cassandra blurted out, indignant.

“Kitten, I know you're scared. You're Dalish, right? From one of the nomadic clans?” Varric smiled and lifted his hands, trying to calm her. “I know there are stories about deportations. But nobody is going to check your documents. This will be a simple investigation. You can trust Donnic and Aveline.”

Papers? Immigration? Oh that's right. Kirkwall had strict labor laws on top of everything else. And it's true: the Dalish were often misrepresented in human courts. 

“No,” Tallia asserted, relieved to be able to hide her true fears behind the silkscreen of alienation. “I don't want to risk it.”

“But…” Cassandra started; however Varric placed his hand on her arm to calm her. 

“Let her be.”

“But he'll get away with it! You can't possibly…?!”

Tallia lowered her head in shame. She felt like a coward. 

“What's your name, kitten?”

“Tallia. Tallia Lavellan.”

“Ok, Tallia Lavellan. Where are you staying tonight.”

Tallia laughed, “I was hoping to stay on your tavern floor, actually.”

Varric chuckled. “That won't be acceptable. We’ll keep your secret...right Cassandra?”

The woman let out a noise of disgust and rose to resume pacing and texting again. 

“We’ll keep your secret,” Varric continued, “But you must stay as our guest of honor tonight. Here. In my quarters. I have other accommodations for myself, but here you will be safe and comfortable.”

“I couldn't possibly…”

“Yes. You can. And you will.” He smiled. 

Tallia smiled back. Sitting here, being fussed over, she felt safer than she had in years. “Yes. Ok. I'll stay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter...bc two of you were precious cinnamon rolls & left me comments & made me squeeeee!


	4. Curly

Once she was alone, Tallia locked the deadbolt and fastened the chain door guard. She leaned against the door and took a deep breath.

That was harrowing, but she was ok.

She took out her phone. Shit. The battery had died. She rummaged around for her charger, and hooked her phone up to an outlet. Then she shimmied out of her wet clothes and laid them to dry on the hearth. The heat from the fire felt good. 

She couldn't wear the clothes she'd reserved for The Night Circus, provided she was even granted an audition. The only suitable thing she had left was a fustian velvet dress, which was more like a tunic, and a pair of dark leggings. She slipped into her clothes and pulled her hair up into a messy bun. Her elven ears were prominent, and, as she glanced at herself in the mirror, she stuck her chin up, proud. Her dark vallaslin marked her. She did not belong here. But the truth was: she did not belong anywhere. The best she could hope for was to use that to her advantage.

She left her belongings in the room and made her way out to the tavern.

Varric was behind the bar, and she beelined it for him, nervous about drawing attention to herself. It was fruitless, of course. By now the whole tavern heard what had happened, and everyone was eager to catch a glimpse of her. 

The two men she'd been eavesdropping on earlier nodded to her as she approached and slipped off their barstools to surrender their seats. "They not necessary..." she said after them, but they just smiled and headed outdoors. 

Tallia sat down in a flush. 

"What can I get ya, Kitten?" Varric asked, his hands on the bar between them. 

She looked at him with a pained look. "I really wish people would just forget anything happened."

"Oh don't worry," he chuckled. "Your story isn't nearly interesting enough to last too long."

She glanced around, hoping he was right. Some people looked at her sympathetically, and others were guarded, or whispered behind their drinks. 

Cassandra sat next to her. "They have already decided your guilt or innocence on their own. But since there will be no arrest..."

"Give it a rest, Seeker." Varric interrupted.

"I hate it when you call me that."

"I think it's growing on you," he chuckled. 

Cassandra snorted in disgust, but when Varric chuckled again, she broke out in a smile and swatted his arm. 

Tallia looked up just as her stranger, the one from the bathroom and the bus stop, the one who kept helping her and leaving before she could learn his name, he walked back through the tavern door, shaking the rain out of his blond hair. He was pent up. Distressed.

When he saw her sitting at the bar, he straightened up, his manner shifted from anger to frustration, and he sauntered over to her. 

"Hey Curly."

"Varric," the man grasped hands with the dwarf as they exchanged their greeting. 

He turned to Cassandra, "Aveline said she'd keep him overnight, give him a chance to sober up."

Cassandra seemed ready to rail against the injustice of it all, but Varric ushered her behind the bar to help him with the orders.

Tallia was alone with her stranger. Well, alone in a crowded room.

He spoke, "Hi."

"Hi," she smiled. 

He smiled back. "I'm Cullen."

"Tallia."

"Tallia," he let her name roll off his tongue. The way it sounded in his Ferelden accent was hypnotic, Dread Wolf take her. 

"Can I...buy you a drink? To thank you? I mean...I know you said you didn't really help...but you still busted down a door for me...and..."

He laughed, “Sure. You get this round. I'll get the next.” He straddled the stool next to her. They ordered their drinks, then sat in an awkward silence. 

Tallia kicked back her liquid courage as soon as it arrived and blurted out, “I'm terrible at flirting.”

“What?” He nearly choked on his ale.

“Flirting. I'm no good at it.” She gestured emphatically in the air, “Being _mysterious_. Playing mind games. That sort of thing.” Oh void why was she putting her foot in her mouth? “Not like I should even be thinking about that right now. I mean. I'm suppose to, like, be in shock or something, right? But. I dunno. Maybe I am. But I don't feel like I'm in shock. I just feel like an idiot for rambling…” She covered her face with her hands, drunk enough to lose her filter, but not drunk enough to lose her embarrassment. Maybe if she could just focus hard enough on the Fade, it would open up and swallow her whole. Mortifying. 

His pint clicked as the glass connected with the counter. He stood and cleared his throat. “Come here.”

She lowered her fingers from her face and looked at him. His eyes were sad but kind. She slid off the barstool.

“May I?” he asked, extending his arms toward her. 

Tentatively, she nodded and stepped into his embrace. He folded his strong arms around her lithe frame and held her. She returned the hug, and buried her face into his chest as he uttered a promise, “You are safe.”

The panic she'd been bottling up found sudden release. She took a deep breath and her body shuddered. Cullen held her tighter.

She squeezed him while the panic surged through her then abated. His arms around her were firm, his embrace was gentle. “There's nothing to be afraid of.”

He nuzzled her head. That simple act set off a chain reaction of confusing emotions inside of her. Attraction. Contentment. Wildness. Peace. His presence both unraveled her and held her together. 

“You're ok. It'll be alright.”

His words calmed her, her breathing calmed, then she sighed. 

But he was just a stranger. Everything about their interaction was absurd. 

He leaned back and smiled. For the first time, she noticed the scar on his lip. Somehow she felt, in that moment, that it was a sign of many more scars that lay invisible under the surface. She buried her face back into his chest and squeezed him tighter. He was her stranger. And she was not ready to let him go.


	5. The Order

A gust of wet air rushed inside as someone held open the door to the tavern. Cullen huffed. He stiffened. He unearthed himself from Tallia’s embrace and pushed her behind him, turning to face whatever fate the next moments would bring.

A pack of lackies in nondescript suits entered first. Cullen watched them as he clenched and unclenched his fists. A hush fell over the tavern as people noticed the disruption.

A large black umbrella breached the doorway, and one of the lackies lowered it to reveal a woman. Her very presence commanded attention; however, indifferent, her gaze was cast on her hands as she slowly removed her long crimson gloves. Swooping blond hair fell over her shoulders. She wore a mink fur over a fitted red dress. Her taste was impeccable, expensive and severe. There was sense of inevitability to her demeanor, as if she could murder Andraste herself and the Maker would do nothing to stop her.

As she walked towards Cullen, tsking his name, her heels clicked on the floor in time with each refrain, “Rutherford, Rutherford, Rutherford…”

“Meredith,” Cullen snarled, tense, body surging with adrenaline.

She looked up at him and sneered. “Restrain him.”

Two of her lackies quickened to him and grabbed him, one at each side, as she approached. Cullen struggled against them, but not before the one on his right pulled back his sleeve, exposing a black circle tattooed on the smooth underside of his forearm. 

Meredith reached out one manicured hand, seizing his forearm and digging her thumbnail into the center of the tattoo. As she did, the black ink glowed red, and Cullen cried out, falling at her feet as she released him. 

“No one leaves The Order.” She towered over him. A lackie by her side withdrew his pistol and aimed it down at Cullen’s skull. 

In quick succession, two men and a woman rose from a nearby table and withdrew weapons.

“Shall we end this quickly?” The tattooed elf with shock white hair pulled out a concealed pistol and cocked it at the lackie trained on Cullen.

“Oh. This will be fun!” The blond shem that rose from the table sent a scorching glare to Meredith while he adjusted his tie and muttered something like a mantra under his breath. 

The remaining lackies pulled out their weapons, training them on the new targets, while onlookers shrunk away from the rising tensions. 

“Good! I was getting a bit bored!” The dark-haired, dark-skinned woman who had been sitting with the other two grinned devilishly as she pulled out two blades and threatened the closest of Meredith’s lackies.

Tallia froze. Should she risk exposing her magic in front of so many? She readied herself for casting, just in case. 

“STOP. AND HOLSTER YOUR WEAPONS.” The booming voice of Cassandra Pentaghast sounded from behind the bar, her hands upraised, her face fierce. 

Next to her, Varric stood with a crossbow cocked and trained squarely on Meredith. His expression was dour. “Tell your men to withdraw. You know our agreement, Crimson. There will be no bloodshed in the Hanged Man.”

Then Cullen fainted and was upon his assailant. With the element of surprise on his side, he incapacitated the lackie, disarmed him and turned his weapon on Meredith. Crouched on the floor, looking down the metal barrel at the woman, he snarled, “Leave.”

Meredith glanced with disdain from Cullen to Varric, then her expression dissipated as she kicked her head back with a forced cackle. “Oh, boys, boys, boys.” She put her gloves back on, clapped once, and her lackies holstered their guns. She strutted to the door, then turned back to snarl in Cullen’s direction, “This isn't over.” Then she pushed her way out into the night.

The room started to come back to life as people pushed the events behind them. 

From behind the bar, Varric sighed as he relaxed his crossbow across his shoulders, “Just another night with Kirkwall’s finest.”

Cullen ejected the magazine from his weapon, unchambered the final round, and dropped the unloaded gun on the counter in front of Cassandra. He then collapsed in a stool, pulling his sleeve down over his tattoo and clenching it through the fabric, as if it burned. 

Tallia leaned against the bar next to him. 

“Aw,” the woman with the daggers moaned. “I'd hoped, if we'd taken them, we could've kept their stuff.”

“Nobody wants a coat with a bullet hole in it. No matter how nice the coat,” the tattooed elf grimaced. 

“Oh! Did you ever hear the one about the coat made of bodyguards’ foreheads?” The blond man chuckled. His companions stared at him. “It's a new fashion fad. All the rage. The leather of the coat is made entirely from the foreheads of slain bodyguards. It's incredibly valuable because you need a lot of bodyguards. Their foreheads are so tiny,” the man drummed his index finger on his forehead, grinning, “Y’know?! Because their brains are so tiny?!”

His companions groaned.

“That is a terrible joke,” the elf scowled. 

“No! Wait! That's not the best part!” The blond leaned forward, eyes dancing, “The most expensive ones are the coats that have foreheads with bullet holes in them. Because. You know!” And he made a dying sound while drawing his finger across his throat, a big stupid grin on his face. 

“Anders! That's awful!” The woman hit his arm while busting out in laughter. “It's not even funny!”

“I find it offensive, actually.”

“Fenris, you find everything offensive.”

“I do not.”

The elf crossed his arms.

“So, back in town, Rutherford?” The woman let Cullen's name drip from her lips as she approached, sultry and demanding. Tallia stiffened at this woman’s familiarity with her stranger. 

Cullen looked distractedly at her, “Perhaps.”

She turned to Tallia and looked her over from top to toe, then moaned, “Oh! You are a doll! Are you new in town!” 

Taken aback, Tallia blushed and fumbled to keep her composure, “Whaaat?!”

“My name is Isabela.” She leaned on the bar beside Tallia and flicked a lock of hair that had fallen out Tallia’s bun. The V neck of her tshirt was long and low, and her cleavage swelled beautifully under the cotton jersey. Tallia made herself look back into the woman’s face. Gorgeous smooth skin against jet black hair. She exuded confidence, elicited attention. 

“Leave the girl be, Isabela,” Varric interceded from across the bar. “Don't worry, kitten. Isabela flirts with anyone.”

“Not my fault the Maker made so many gorgeous people to flirt with!” Isabela pouted, feigning injury.

Tallia smiled, flustered, but flattered. Then she felt a strong hand squeeze her own. She turned away from Isabela and back to Cullen, as he pulled her towards him. His eyes pleaded. “I…” He fumbled, embarrassed, cast his gaze down and let go of her hand to rub the back of his neck. “I'm sorry. Forget it. It was foolish of me to hope…”

He stood and turned away. 

“Wait!” Tallia took a step to follow him.

He faced her. “I shouldn't be here. I should never have returned.”

He was tortured by his inner turmoil and looked so incredibly resigned to his sadness. Before she knew what she was saying, Tallia blurted out, “Stay with me.”

“What?”

“Stay here. With me.” She took a deep breath. “Tonight.”

His forlorn expression broke into one of yearning. “I could not, I would never…”

“Life is too short. Fuck Meredith. Fuck Samson. All we really have is this moment.” Tallia took a deep breath. She reached out and ran her fingers down his arm, and the electricity that she felt had nothing to do with magic.

Maybe it was her touch. Maybe it was her words. Whatever it was, something unleashed inside of him and his look of desperation shifted from sadness to hunger. He looked at her with longing. His body was tense as he took her hand. “Tonight I am yours.”


	6. Carpe Diem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW

Tallia locked the deadbolt and leaned her back against the door. Cullen was by the fireplace, glowering into the flames. She had a bottle of Chianti, two cheap wine glasses and a bundle from the kitchen.

Cullen hadn't heard her enter the room. He was on the phone, speaking too low for her to make out the conversation. He seemed tense.

What was she hoping to do? Have a one-night stand with a shem? In a foreign city? The night before she was trying to disappear?

Too many questions. She was too tired. Too drunk. She clung to the wine bottle. Perhaps she wasn't drunk enough.

She deposited the paper bag on the table. The crinkling paper drew his attention. He brightened at her arrival and spoke quickly, “Gotta go,” then pocketed his phone. 

She approached him, smiling nervously, the bottle hooked on her fingers.

His gaze hung on the sway of her hips, stoking a fire within him, then he dipped his eyes to the floor and stumbled for a greeting, “I…” he grunted, “forgive me…”

Her laughter was like a bell, bright and clear. “There's nothing to forgive.” His shoulders relaxed and he looked up at her in earnest. She twisted her grin into a sly smile, “It seems, however, I forgot to have Varric open this for me. Can you help me look for a corkscrew?”

“No need,” he said, taking out a Swiss Army knife and taking the bottle from her hands.

She held up the glasses as he poured, “One for the lady,” he grinned, “And one for her unworthy companion.” He caught the line of wine dribbling down the neck of the bottle with his thumb and sucked it absentmindedly before taking his glass from her.

Tallia noticed, and she blushed.

“We should make a toast,” she suggested.

“Hmm.” 

She almost said “ _to new beginnings_ ,” but bit her tongue. That could be a can of worms. “How about: to not dying.”

He chuckled, “I can drink to that.” They clinked glasses and sipped their wine.

She tucked a loose hair behind her ear. 

“Do you want to sit on the couch...or…?” He looked around.

“Oh that would be nice.” Tallia curled up on top of her legs and watched as he set his glass on the ground, then shrug his jacket off his shoulders. When the sleeve moved over his forearm, the one with the circle tattoo, he hissed.

“Here,” Tallia reached her hand out. “Let me take a look at that.”

Cullen dropped his jacket on the floor and sat down next to her, extending his arm reluctantly. “Just...please...don't ask me about it…”

Tallia teased up his cuff to get a better look at the area, “Keeping secrets?”

“No...I mean, I guess...I just…” Brow stitched together, his eyes grew dark, and he withdrew his arm, clenching his fist.

Tallia reached out and placed her slender hand on his. “It's ok. I…” _I have my own secrets too_ , she wanted to confess. But couldn't. “I'm ok with it. I don't...need to know.”

Cullen regarded her soft expression. He sighed. “I’m not trying to hide the truth. I think secrets only protect people who want to harm others. But, in this instance, they aren't my secrets to tell.” He brushed her cheek from chin to ear with his knuckles.

His skin on her face sent reverberations of electricity across her skin. She caught in a quick breath.

“I…” she blushed and tried to focus her mind. “I should still take a look at your arm.”

He offered it to her. She rolled back his cuff the rest of the way and exposed the circle tattoo. It was nothing extraordinary: a dark black line running an even circumference in perfect symmetry, about 4 inches in diameter. The skin around it was irritated, and there was a mark in the center where Meredith had gouged his skin. 

“May I?” she asked, one hand holding his arm steady while her other hovered over the tattoo. 

He nodded. Yes. “It just feels...on fire...it keeps itching…”

She closed her eyes, tapping into the Fade, and her hand glowed over his tattoo while she reached out with her spirit to ascertain the shape of the wound. There was the surface pain, tangible to his body and visible to the naked eye, but there was a deeper layer, as well, one she was not accustomed to seeing. The wound was out of sync, as if it scarred him where his spirit intersected with the Fade, as well.

Unheard of.

The glow left her hand and she looked up with sheepish eyes. “I'm so sorry.”

He squirmed, “There's no need to…”

She was already raising his arm to her lips, and she kissed his wound, once, lips soft and smooth on the mark Meredith had left. She raised her mouth up, then, uttering an incantation, coated her lips with a healing spell. Then she returned her mouth to his skin and worked her lips nimbly over his wounds. 

She felt cool. She calmly knit his wound back together and, reaching out with her spirit, she took his pain into herself and muddled it, folding it away inside her own hurts.

There was peace to her movements, and, Cullen thought, the ritual felt almost holy. Baffled, he watched as her gentleness pulled his old wounds back together.

When she sat up, she was slightly out of breath.

Cullen examined his skin. It was smooth and the redness was all gone. Meredith's gouge wasn't even a scar. “Incredible.”

Tallia leaned back, eyes glassy from exertion, and swatted a hand in his direction. “Oh...it's nothing…”

“No,” Cullen insisted, reaching out to hold her shoulders and pivot her to face him. “It’s extraordinary! You are...extraordinary.”

She felt a knot under her belly tighten and swell. Her palms felt itchy.

Again he brushed her cheek with the back of his hand, then paused just before her neck to cup her face along her jaw.

His eyes were golden, and the pain in his expression had turned into something open and raw. 

“I have my own secrets, too…” She confessed. “And they're no one else's but my own.”

“I'm sure you do,” he chuckled, then drew his face closer to hers, his hand cupping her neck, fingers tangled into her hair.

“What about your rule about secrets? Aren't you worried that I could hurt you?”

“Every rule has its exceptions.”

He didn't care. She was a mage. A dalish mage. And, Dread Wolf take her, he treated her like she was just a woman. And, oh, did he ever made her feel like a woman. 

She placed her hands on his shoulders and steadied herself against him as he leaned forward.

His lips were inches from hers. Her stomach was turning over on itself. She teased, “Go ahead. Break your rules.” And just as he leaned in to kiss her, a ring erupted from his jacket. Cullen released her, snarling and stood up to hunt for his phone. “What is it?” he growled, back turned to the couch.

After a short listen, he barked, “It can wait. I told you, I'm not to be disturbed.” With that he hung up and turned off the phone, tossing it onto his things.

He obviously had a lot going on, and a lot on his mind. Tallia was losing her nerve. 

“It's ok,” she rose up . “If you have somewhere to be, or…” But before she could finish, Cullen wrapped his arms around her, securing her neck and her waist with both strong arms, and pressed her up against his body as he poured himself into a kiss. 

Her mouth was still cool from her spell. As he placed his lips on hers, her mouth was fresh, like leaves of grass wet with morning dew. He shivered and smiled, lips on lips, then opened his mouth and tasted her, a hot tongue against her crisp mouth.

His kiss undid her. Excitement emanated to her limbs, and, at first, her hands were useless in shock. But as she melted under his mouth, she brought him closer, returning his embrace.

He tasted like elderberries and wine.

Breaking the kiss, but holding her close, he murmured, “That was nice.”

“I think that was a kiss,” she grinned, “But I'm not sure…”

At her tease, he chuckled and pulled her close for another embrace. This time, they lingered at each other's lips, experimenting with the texture and taste of each other's newfound skin, finding a rhythm of give and take.

Slowly, his hands worked their way over her body, feeling the curve of her torso, gliding down each notch in her spine. She shivered under his touch, pulled his body closer and dragged herself over his chest.

Without breaking their kiss, he moaned into her mouth, then released her. He hungered into her eyes and dragged his hand up her sides. “So soft. So sweet.”

Confident and aglow at his attentions, she pushed him gently down onto the couch. With a sly smile, she ran her hands over her body, feeling her own curves, and twisting her hips in a silent dance while he sat before her.

“Are you sure you want to get close to so many secrets?” she teased, gliding her hips in a smooth dance to the left, then the right, stepping closer and closer to him. Her hands traveled from her buttocks up her torso and finally caught in her bun where she pulled out her hair tie and let her locks come tumbling down.

Smoldering, he watched her, until she came oh-just-close-enough. Then, in a flash, he reached out and threw her off balance. She tumbled into his lap, peeling with giggles. 

“You couldn't stop me if you tried.” He said, then seared her mouth with his own.

She sat up, straddling him, without breaking his kiss. Then she resumed her gyrations, sliding her body over his, twisting and rotating her hips in a smooth glide.

“Maker's Breath!” He exhaled and lifted his chin back, his hands clenched into her as she continued the slow grind against his body. His eyes were closed. As she worked herself over his loins, grinding their sex together, she could feel his _necessity_ and the _demand_ of hard flesh pressing back against her through their clothing. 

His hands slid down to her ass and he dug his fingers into her soft cheeks, holding her in place. His breath was tortured, until a moment passed and he gathered himself together. He kissed her then, forcefully, full of want and need. She tried to grind herself against him, again, and he struggled to hold her in place. Impish, she smiled against his lips, then nipped at his nose.

Suddenly, he grabbed her and held her as he stood up. She yelped and flung her arms around his neck. He slid her away from his erection and pushed her up against the wall. Then he grinned darkly, voice husky, “And what about you? You have no idea how dangerous I can be.”

“I don't care,” she placed her hand on his chest. “This is all that matters. A good heart. And I can tell yours is golden.”

Cullen caged her between his arms, one palm pressed against the wall on either side of her face. He lowered his mouth to her ear and she felt the next words as he rumbled them, “You don't know who I am. What I am capable of.” His breath trailed hot down her neck. 

She was flushed. Her skin was on fire.

He breathed deeply and took in the scent of her.

“Tell me what you want with me,” he demanded, face obscured, stubble skittering over her skin.

Tallia was flustered. She fumbled with her thoughts. Her mind felt like mercury, opaque and intangible. 

He leaned back. His gaze was smoldering with desire and pain and need. “Tell me what you want with me.”

“I…” Tallia was suddenly so unsure. Desire was spooling in her belly. Their foreplay was unraveling her, and she was grasping to put her need into words. 

Cullen leaned forward and whispered in her ear, and the only contact she could feel was the wisp of his plea on her skin. “Say what you want and it is yours.”

Tallia brought her hands up to his shoulders and wrapped her arms around him. She pressed her cheek against him and confessed, “You. I just want you. I want to be with...you.”

He stepped forward, pressing her between him and the wall. “You have no idea what you are asking for.” The hard planes of his body rose and fell with his breath. Her legs straddled his thigh and he rutted once against her. She felt the hard bulge inside his pants glide roughly down her torso. She ached for more. 

“I don't care,” she replied, and rutted back, sliding her crotch against his leg. She leaned forward, pressing her chest into his, bit his earlobe then uttered into his ear, “Give it to me.”

Her words unleashed a storm of desire. Cullen dug his hands into her ass and lifted her up until she straddled him. He anchored her against the wall and rutted against her in a steady rhythm. Meanwhile, his mouth was at her throat, kissing and biting roughly at her upturned face. She grasped him, fingers in his hair, as he clenched her and ground his body against hers.

“So soft. So sweet.” His mouth was all over her skin. She felt herself swell and ache under his attentions. Her core was wet and on fire and aching something fierce. Her clothes were in the way. She wanted to feel skin against skin. She wanted to feel... _him_. 

As if he sensed her frustrations, he pivoted while carrying her and laid her down on the floor in front of the fire. She pulled him down after her, running kisses down his neck, rubbing her hands over his chest. 

He ran his own hands up her legs and hooked them on the waistband of her leggings. “Yes,” she whimpered and wiggled her hips as he pulled down her pants and underwear in one go. 

In a moment, he was face to face with her, cradling her neck, yearning into her eyes.

Tallia looked into his eyes expectantly. 

Then he kissed her. 

His mouth on her own was otherworldly, like a muscle of hot desire. He sucked on her bottom lip and then pushed his tongue into her mouth, gliding roughly against her own. Again she tasted elderberries and wine. She worked her mouth over his and poured her desire into him. There was no going back. There was no going anywhere. She needed him. And he needed her. In that moment, their need was absolute. 

They kissed again. And again. And then he slid his hand slowly up her thigh and she melted under his touch. When he moved his fingers over her labia, he growled, “Hmm. So wet for me.”

“Cullen…” she pleaded, yearning for attention. Neck arched, head upturned, her mouth open in involuntary sighs.

He curled and uncurled his fingers against her folds, the rough calluses on his skin titillating her senses. She moaned as he massaged her, and she grew slicker by the second.

She squirmed, aching for more contact, searching for his mouth with her own. And then she had both: his mouth was against hers and, as he slid his tongue into her mouth for another kiss, he slid a finger into her sex and massaged the silky walls of her desire. In. And out. Again. And again. And then he stayed in and quivered his fingers and she felt stars exploding.

She broke the kiss and moaned, gasping into the night air. Her body quivered. The rush of her release poured over his hand, as he kept steady with his ministrations.

Her body was loose and hot. And in need. She ran her hands up her stomach, sighing, losing the ability for coherent speech.

Suddenly, he was no longer touching her, and she whimpered, sitting up to pull him back to her. But then she saw: he had removed his shirt and was pulling his pants down and kicking them away. 

Fuck. He was gorgeous. The firelight flickered over his tight torso. Scars gouged into his flesh were dramatic with shadow. She was already in heat, but the image of his naked, hard body undid her and made her crave more. 

“Take off your dress,” he commanded. 

She fumbled with the last of her clothing, pulling it over her head and tossing it aside. The flames from the fire cast deep shadows over her curves. The dark line of her vallaslin followed down her exposed skin, clothing her with her tribe’s mark even now, in this most vulnerable of moments.

“Maker's breath!” he uttered. “You're gorgeous.”

He advanced to her, then cupped her face in his hands as he leaned her back against the sheepskin rug. His eyes were questioning.

“Take me, Cullen.” She sighed, eager to unspool her pleasure for him. “Tonight, I am yours.”

With that, he filled her with his cock. She was so wet, his glide was effortless. The walls of her vagina, soft as velvet, smooth and warm and--oh--she clenched around him and he fought back his need. 

“Again!” she pleaded. He withdrew and cocked himself within her. The pressure, the force, the thickness of being filled undid her. But she needed more.

“Please...Cullen…” she mewled, unsure how to ask for what she needed. But that was all the encouragement he needed. He bent forward to place a hot kiss on her mouth, then he rutted inside her, in and out and in and out, with increasing force.

When he brought his mouth to her breast and suckled on her nipple, she cried out his name and came in a hot rush. He kept up his pace of thrusting into her as her body melted under him. She was so wet and hot and soft and he wanted this to last. He needed this to last.

As she sighed and moaned, he slowed his rhythmic thrust to a slower pace and focused his attentions on her body. Running his hands over her skin, he traced the lines of her vallaslin. At her breast, he massaged her with his mouth, working her pert nipple hard and titillating it with his teeth. Then he switched breasts and squeezed her wet nipple between his fingers, playing with her sensations, rubbing her sensitive until sighs hitched into moans. 

One last searing kiss against her lips, then he pulled out and instructed, “Turn over.”

As she kneeled before him, hips in the air and face prone, she felt the heat of the fireplace blanket them in warmth. Then, his hands on her cheeks, he massaged her ass and spread her vagina wide.

When he filled her this time, he hit her in _just the right spot,_ and she could not keep quiet. His cock sliding in and out of her made her senses explode, make her see stars. She yelped and moaned and started to beg, “Cullen, oh Creators...Cullen... _Cullen_...CULLEN!” And then she buried her face into the sheepskin and tried to muffle her screams of pleasure.

He rode her, wet, soft, beautiful body while she came undone like a lightning storm wrapped up in skin. Hot, smooth skin. Massaging her ass as he thrust and thrust and thrust, he felt her release, and then rode the tide and he followed her with his own.

Lifting her face out of the rug, she sighed. 

Cullen reached for his boxers and wiped their cum off her as he pulled out. Then he wiped down his cock, as she rolled onto her back. “Thank you,” she smiled, “that was unexpected.” He tossed the boxes aside and lay next to her on the rug, curling her into his arms.

Unexpected. Yes.

He drew her close and kissed her forehead, and they lay silent, illuminated by firelight.


	7. Circus Lion

_Tallia followed a lion through the rainy woods that line the Storm Coast. Leaves of grass streaked against her calves, and the cuffs of her jeans grew heavy and wet. Then the trees thinned and in the clearing before them were a cluster of tents: the circus. It was dusk. The light of sunset bled crimson in the sky, and on the other side of the horizon, the sky was black with starless night._

_Her lion tread inside. She followed._

_He walked deliberately, full of intention, as if the slightest lapse in attention would unravel him. Each. Step. In focus. In time to the beat of his steady gait._

_Around a bend, steady and onward, the lion made his way through deserted corridors lined with the blank canvases of circus tents. Shadows passed like ghosts, fading in and out of existence. He didn't change his gait._

_Tallia was entranced. She kept trying to catch a view of the ghosts, but they would not linger, and she’d hurry on after her lion._

_Then, out of her eye, a bald man turned down a corner, clutching a stack of papers. As he darted on his way, a page slipped out and fluttered to the circus floor. Her lion walked in the opposite direction. Tallia was torn, and stood for a moment considered who to follow, but the urgency of needing to help was insatiable. She abandoned her course, bounded over to the paper, picked it up, and hurried after its owner._

_“Ser!” she cried out, as he disappeared around a corner. “”Ser!” She leapt after him, quickening her pace. She caught a glimpse of him just as he disappeared behind the flaps of a circus tent. Tentatively, she opened the entry and slipped inside._

_She found herself in a labyrinth made entirely of doors. One door after another, with no walls to separate them or signs to designate where they might lead. She walked around, befuddled. It was a maze of quirky, unique, obscure doors._

_She tested one. It was locked, She tested another and another. All of them were locked._

_She wandered around, getting lost between the smooth grain of cherry or pine or cedar stained black. This one was painted red, that one pink. From knockers to keyholes to metalworking and engraved details, no two doors were alike._

_And then she stumbled upon him. Crouching before a doorframe overgrown with ivy, the door itself hewn from a hard dark wood, and a knocker cast from black iron in the shape of a wild wolf, there was the odd bald man. He was turned away from her, and it seemed like he had lightning in his hands that cast a green glow up in his skin. It was then that Tallia saw his pointy elven ears, alight with the green fire._

_“Ser,” she said._

_Startled, he dropped something. It clanged on the floor. She could hear the grating of stone on stone as it rolled away. And the green light must have been emanating out of cracks or holes in this object, because, as it rolled across the floor, it scattered light and shadow haphazardly, like a strobe light._

_“Who’s there?” His face was obscured in shadow, but the elven man peered into the dark, searching for his intruder._

_Tallia stepped forward, “I...um...I saw you...and...you dropped this paper!”_

_He rose and walked to her, absentmindedly taking the paper that she offered to him. Then he looked at her. His face was lost in darkness, but his voice trembled, “You should not be here.”_

Then Tallia awoke.


	8. You're Not Getting This Back

Tallia woke and sat up with a start.

“Whoa. Oh! Is everything alright?”

At first she forgot where she was. Who was this shem lying next to her? Why was he naked? Why was _she_ naked? He reached out to comfort her, and she recoiled at his touch. Her head felt fuzzy with sleep and the lingering alcohol in her system made her mind slog.

Heart racing.

Eyes blurry.

She felt for the Fade at her fingertips, as she readied herself reflexively to fight or flee.

Then the poignancy of her dream slipped away and was replaced with recollections of her evening. She yawned. Her vision focused a little better. Her head felt more clear. And suddenly she felt a mixture of shame and confusion, curled her knees to her chest and groaned.

“Oh, hey! Don't worry. Hey. Let me help.” Cullen reached over to grab the closest thing, his jacket, and wrapped it around her shoulders. She grasped the fur from the inside to hold it in place. It was soft against her skin.

The fire had died down and was a pile of black coals glowing red at the cracks. The light in the room was dim. The din of chatter from the bar had died down since she'd slept.

She attempted a smile. “Thanks.”

“Come here,” he offered an embrace. This time, she accepted. Curled up in his arms, she rested her head on his chest while he stroked her hair. “It's ok.”

The pressure of his body grounded her, steadied her breathing.

Tallia sighed, “I...feel like an idiot. I'm sorry.” She had a history of dreaming poignant and crazy things, but it had been awhile since she'd had a dream that seemed so tangible, as if it were actually real.

“There's nothing to be sorry about. I...I know how hard nightmares can be.”

“Do you have nightmares often?”

He sighed, “Yes.”

“Like what?” She leaned back.

He looked torn. “I...don't really want to get into it.”

“It's ok. I'm actually really interested. In dreams, and stuff.”

He gave a half hearted smile. “Another time, perhaps.”

Then her stomach growled, a loud, rumbling sound, and, after a moment of shock, they burst out laughing. “I had no idea I was so hungry!” Wiping the tears from her eyes, Tallia stood up to retrieve the parcel she'd snagged from the kitchen. She picked up her undies and slipped them on, then fetched the bag.

When she turned around, Cullen was slipping on his jeans.

“Don't think you're getting this jacket back anytime soon,” she teased, jutting out her hip, showing off her ass, and smiling at him over a shrugged shoulder.

He raised his eyebrow and growled at her, smiling, “Don't tempt me.”

She giggled and collapsed by the fireside with her parcel, “At least let’s have something to eat before you try to take it.”

He knelt before her and placed his hand behind her neck to pull her towards him, then suddenly stopped. He sucked in his breath and moved her hair out of the way as he examined her skin. “Maker's breath! He left a mark!” Anger roiled in his expression as he swept his fingers over her black and blue bruise.

“What? You mean from the bathroom?” Tallia got up and looked around for a mirror. She found one next to the door and stretched up her chin to get a good look at the bruises. Sure enough, the chokehold Samson had her in had marked her.

Casting a healing spell, her hand glowed golden and bright as she passed it over her skin, knitting the wound back together. Cullen stood behind her, watching her through their reflection, smoldering with barely concealed rage.

“There! Good as new! Nothing to worry about!” She turned and smiled, lifting her chin to show proof that she was fine.

He glared at her newly healed neck.

“Please,” she laughed. “You don't need to worry about me.”

His expression melted from rage into sadness. “It's not ok.”

“Look: it’s fine. I’m good as new.” She stepped closer, lifted her hair up off her neck to expose her newly healed skin.

He ran his fingers over the site of Samson’s chokehold and sighed. “But what about you?” he searched her eyes. “How are you feeling?”

Tallia blushed. The question was so simple, yet so intimate. “I…” She felt her outer armor falling away. She was so used to running from things out of her control that the question made her feel raw and confused. “I don’t know.”

Cullen chuckled. “That’s ok.” He laced his fingers through her hair as he anchored her against him. “Hey,” he said, and she looked up, then he sealed her mouth with a kiss.

Desire was coiling in her belly. Coupled with the rawness of her emotions, she felt suddenly off-balance. What was he doing to her? Wasn’t this supposed to be a one-night-stand? She bit her lip and smiled. “You are definitely not safe.”

He chuckled, running his fingers into her hair and clutching her again. “You have no idea.” Then she melted into him as he swept her into another kiss.

When her belly rumbled, louder this time, he broke their embrace, and she groaned. “I'll be fiiiine…”

“Food first.”

“And then?”

He laughed. “We'll see.

Outside, the world was quiet and black, in the darkest moments of morning right before dawn.

They curled up on the floor in front of the coals, leaning up against the sofa. Cullen found a blanket and draped it over their laps. Legs intertwined, with her nestled into the crook of his arms, they nibbled on cheese and bread, sipping the Chianti till the bottle was dry.

Neither of them wanted to talk about Kirkwall or the secrets that hounded them. Instead, Cullen told about the games he’d play with his siblings. Tallia talked about moving around as a child and her favorite places she’d visited.

The fire died out, and his breathing was getting heavy. Snug in his embrace, Tallia pressed her face against his chest.

“Cullen?” she ventured. “Are you asleep?”

“Mmm. Almost.” He brushed his lips against her hair in a kiss. “What is it?”

“Why did you help me? I mean...you weren't surprised at all when I told you I used magic. How? How is that possible?” She held her breath, nervous and alert.

Cullen sighed and ran his hand over her shoulders in a comforting rub. “I have a complicated past. I…” He sucked in his breath and broke their embrace to rub his temples. “I'm sorry. I can't get into it.”

“But...you know of other mages?” She leaned back.

He looked at her with a guarded and pained expression.

“I just...I find it incredible. I don't want you to break anyone's confidence. But to find others like me?! That would be...incredible!”

“Yes,” he said, brushing the back of his knuckles across her cheek, an affectionate gesture that was already becoming familiar. “The fact that you’ve survived is...incredible.” His eyebrows were raised and sad. What secret could possibly cause him so much hurt?

Tallia tried to read his expressions as he cast his gaze away, deep in thought.

She snuggled into him as before, her head on his chest.

A thought flashed into his mind that seemed to bring him hope, and he looked down at her with a glimmer in his eyes, about to speak, then thought better of it. Instead he kissed the top of her head and rubbed her back until she fell asleep.

He drifted off with her in his arms.

And neither of them dreamed.


	9. Recharged

_\--Deshanna 7:24pm_   
_Da’len let me know when you arrive._

_\--Deshanna 8:31pm_   
_I have news._

_\--Deshanna 10:33pm_   
_Please let me know that you arrived._   
_I imagine you are tired, but put my silly old mind at ease and let me know that you are safe._

_\--Deshanna 11:01pm_   
_Are you there?_

_\--Deshanna 11:07pm_   
_Oh! Perhaps your phone has died?_   
_I should send you my news. I hope it reaches you in time._   
_I finally heard back from my connection at the circus!_   
_You have an audition!_   
_It’s tomorrow morning. 9am. Just go to the front ticket booth and tell them your stage name._

_\--Deshanna 11:28pm_   
_I do hope that you get the information in time._

_\--Deshanna 12:15am_   
_Please let me know the moment these messages come through. No hour is too late._

* * *

 

Tallia awoke slowly. Her head on Cullen, she felt the rise and fall of his chest with each breath. She slipped out of his arms without disturbing his sleep. Leaning back on her heels, she sighed, happy.

Her muscles ached. Damn hangover. Should have never had so much wine. _And yet?_ She smiled again, as she stood up. _No regrets._

Resting on top of her bag, plugged into the outlet, she saw her phone flash.

“Shit.”

_\--Deshanna 8:01 am_   
_Da’len? Are you there?_

_\--Tallia 8:02 am_   
_Ir abelas, Deshanna. My phone died._   
_reading yr msgs now_

_\--Deshanna 8:03 am_   
_Thank the Creators._

_\--Tallia 8:05 am_   
_I’m so sorry._   
_That you were worried._

_\--Deshanna 8:05 am_   
_Don’t think on it._   
_Will you be able to make it to the audition on time?_

_\--Tallia 8:06 am_   
_I just checked google maps. There’s a bus._   
_I’ll make it._

_\--Deshanna 8:06 am_   
_I am happy for you! Hurry!_   
_Update me later?_

_\--Tallia 8:07 am_   
_ttyl_   
_And thx_

Tallia bit her lip and gazed over at her lover, fast asleep. Golden hair tousled over rough features. He made her feel disarmed and fortified at the same time. She didn’t mean to start anything last night, and, yet, the fates seemed to have thrown them together.

Nothing had changed for her. She still needed to disappear into the circus. But the memory of his arms holding her steady as she shaked...and the memory of how he made her shake…

She sighed, torn. Who was she kidding? Everything had changed.

Then she had an idea.

Bottom lip between her teeth, she dug through her bag, and withdrew a red satin ribbon. She cut it down the center, then twisted the pieces back on themselves so that they created two separate yet identical spirals. She gathered together her things, put on street clothes, and left Cullen’s jacket on the couch. Then she crouched down and tied one ribbon around his wrist as he slept, and then tied the other around her own.

If the fates meant for them to be together, let the fates bring them together again.

A kiss on her fingers, then her fingers on his forehead, and she whispered, “Find me.” Then slipped through the door and was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elven translations:  
> Da’len - little child, or "little one"  
> Ir abelas - I’m sorry


End file.
